Home away from Home
by NCR Ranger
Summary: The masses generally only see one side of the UNSC's fiercest enforcers


It was safe to say that MJOLNIR armor bodysuits offered greater protection than than an entire infantry squad's worth of conventional torso chest plates- and that was _without_ the sturdily bulky, yet streamlined and sleep outer armor layers bolted onto it.

The nanocomposite, titanium armored, jet black sub-suits were designed from the smallest level on up to shied their wearers from every kind of incoming fire you could think of off the top of your head. Each of them had enough ballistic protection woven and packed into themselves to make taking a full sized rifle round up to at least 7.62mm FMJ, or a spike from a Jiralhane Canister rifle, at close range seem like a tickle. Against plasma, energy, and CBRN attacks, the suit was soundly woven with layers upon layers of reflective and insulating materials to shield the person under them from getting burned or irradiated.

All that protection made the bodysuits a little on the thick side; punching one of them was like hitting a rock. True, they were _superbly_ flexible nonetheless, and didn't restrict movement at all, but they were as dense and heavy as a suit of medieval armor. They weren't thin. You couldn't detect someone's heartbeat, for example, by putting your palm up to the chest of a Spartan wearing one. You couldn't possibly register anything through it.

" Your heart's going a mile a minute "

Kelly's observation was accompanied by her gently, but purposefully, pressing the palm of her hand into John's broad chest. The latter was covered by the heavy layers and padding of the MJOLNIR bodysuit, and by all logic, Kelly should only have had the cool, roughness of the suit's slicked smooth surface against her weather tested skin. It was too well built.

But, she did. She _knew_ she did. Kelly had felt the rhythm of John's heartbeat too many times for her to be anything less than absolutely certain that she could detect it now, and she was.

John didn't respond, at first, but he didn't have to, and they both knew it.

It was a Spartan trait, to be able to communicate so easily with non verbal means alone. It was how they'd been trained- raised, one could even argue- on Reach, for all those years. Expressing emotions openly and freely was an uncommon sight among Spartan 2s, even when they were among themselves away from the attention of non-Spartans. It didn't come easily to them, even though the natural human instinct that they all had _wanted_ to.

They even did so,too- laughed out loud, yelled (though no Spartan 2 had ever been seen by any living soul weeping. ). It was simply harder for them to be that way, and they tended to do it less than everyone else . Communicating with their bodies and limbs was what counted as normal for them. Many Spartans secretly loved watching how confused, baffled, and annoyed non-Spartans were when they watched the Supersoldiers having full conversations with nothing but twitching fingers, tipping heads, and other gestures.

Of course, that didn't mean they'd left saying what was on their minds beind. Or hadn't ever.

" Why do you think that is ? ".

John finally spoke. He was casual enough- or at least, that's what he was going for. As soon as he spoke, though, he realized how he sounded- more emotional than he thought he'd be. Or, was used to being.

It wasn't often that he got to be alone with Kelly. Blue Team was called Blue _Team_ for a reason; they lived and fought _every day, _ as _one_ unit. On or off the field, they spent much of each day around each other, whether it was in the mess hall, armories, briefing rooms, gyms, or anywhere else in Spartan Town. They were their own clan, and always had been. They were their own little group.

That made moments like these- when the rest of the team wasn't around, and when they did have some privacy- even sweeter. It felt like it'd been earned.

Now it was Kelly's turn to not say anything.

Instead, she let her forehead touch John's. He was taller than her by about an inch or so- which was saying something, as Kelly had been tall for her age back when they were kids, towering over John ( but not the giant Samuel ) , and had shot up even more after the augmentations. Now, though, John hadn't only caught up to her, he'd gone right past. He was probably one of the tallest Spartans alive these days.

Kelly did have enough height to touch her forehead to him, though, and that's exactly what she did now. She closed her eyes, shut everything else out ( with the bare minimum of situational awareness left ), and concentrated on the steady thumping sensation of John's heart that she'd been focused on.

She was close enough to feel the tickling of air brushing past her nose whenever John exhaled.

Their breathing was now roughly in perfect sync; Kelly couldn't tell when one of them was breathing separate from the other.

Without missing a beat, John's hand gently closed around hers. His grip was strong, and Kelly was well aware that it had the ability to be even stronger than it was right now- these were fingers that could-and had- crush a Sangheli's throat, or fire an MA5C one handed.

Now, though, they were grasping her hand, practically holding it in place. Holding her in place along with it. For a moment, the distance between them narrowed, as John's lips gently brushed hers.

Well, not that Kelly had any desire to leave. Not even in the slightest. Not after a kiss like that, anyway.

A smile automatically spread across her face. Not a wide one, but a content one. She was very much at home, right here and now. Spartans didn't have a fixed home, but Kelly knew where hers was.

They were supposed to be the towering machines that everyone was afraid of, and by " everyone ", that even included other UNSC. They all looked at Spartans as these massive robotic beings that didn't show anything aside from a remarkable ability to fight their way through fearsome battles that would leave any non Spartan dead, and kill things that would take a full platoon to bring down.

It was hard, to be that way to them, to be the image of fear itself- and then turn around and be more like those non-Spartans than they had any idea of. Morale had to be kept up, though. Image was important. A Spartan man and woman being all intimate with each other didn't exactly fit into that.

There was no image _here_ though, and Kelly and John were grateful for it.

Because, after all, they were a man and a woman, so being this way was more than normal.

It was _right_.

It was so very right.


End file.
